


What Happens In Vegas...

by Andromytta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst without a happy ending, I'm Not Ashamed, I'm Serious, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Suicidal Thoughts, there is no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 03:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13157949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromytta/pseuds/Andromytta
Summary: Dean had fucked up… He knew it from the look on Castiel's face.  They'd never addressed… whatever those lingering stares meant. They never talked about "feelings,” pushed them aside, burying them deep.  But when Castiel had walked in to find some slim, blonde thing wrapped around Dean on the couch…everything became blindingly obvious. The sexual tension that had been growing between them since they had met, shattered...Castiel's heart was broken.And he'd left.  Before Dean could do more than stare at him in shock at being discovered after another meaningless fling….





	What Happens In Vegas...

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a prompt in Destiel Port: Prompts, Fan Fiction, Writings and Such on Facebook. The summary is the prompt, verbatim. Being the angst whore that I am, I was like "gimme!" Especially since the last two stories I wrote were fluff fests, I needed it.
> 
> Heed the tags. This does NOT have a happy ending. If you want angst with a happy ending, move on. Move way on. However, no one dies, so you should be happy about that. Honestly, I'm not even sorry.

Dean had fucked up… He knew it from the look on Castiel's face.  They'd never addressed… whatever those lingering stares meant. They never talked about "feelings,” pushed them aside, burying them deep.  But when Castiel had walked in to find some slim, blonde thing wrapped around Dean on the couch…everything became blindingly obvious. The sexual tension that had been growing between them since they had met, shattered...Castiel's heart was broken.

And he'd left.  Before Dean could do more than stare at him in shock at being discovered after another meaningless fling….

***

It was Vegas Weekend.  And Sam had invited Cas, much to Dean’s dismay, though he hid it well.  Vegas Weekend was that one time Dean let his guard, and his inhibitions, down.  That time when he let himself have what he really wanted, but wouldn’t ever let himself have.  Well, a reasonable facsimile of what he really wanted, anyway.

While Sam was on his hippie, granola hiking trip (or whatever) Dean would seek out someone with dark messy hair, deep blue eyes (that somehow were never the right shade), chiseled features, and enough upper body strength to manhandle Dean.  And he’d finally just let go.  Of everything.  Of all his inhibitions, all expectations, all his posturing.  And he’d just be.  For one weekend out of the year, Dean could be who he truly was because he was surrounded by strangers who didn’t judge him.

But then, Sam had to invite Castiel along.  Yeah, so maybe the guy needed a vacation as much as the Winchesters did.  But being that close to what he wanted, but couldn’t even dare to let himself have, was throwing Dean off center in a way he couldn’t catch his balance.

It didn’t help that with Sam on his nature hike, Castiel would not leave Dean’s side.  It took some doing, but Dean finally convinced Castiel to check on Sam and make sure he wasn’t getting hitched to some crazy fan girl again.  They did not need a repeat of the Becky situation, after all.  Now, with his bubble of personal space back intact, it was time to get his vacation on.

Unfortunately, that didn’t exactly help as much as he was hoping.  Dean was fidgety with that itch he couldn’t scratch.  He sat, pumping quarters into the video poker machine, one eye on the hunky dark haired bartender, one on the blonde cocktail waitress who kept bringing him top shelf whiskey, despite the fact he was only on a 25 cent machine.

In the end, Dean couldn’t give up his inhibitions or his control.  He ended up bringing the waitress back to his room after her shift was over.  Which was when every one of Dean’s delicate walls came shattering down.  Yes, Dean fucked up.  Fucked up big time.  And now Cas was gone.

In a matter of moments, Dean threw the waitress out of his room and chased Cas outside.  He was too late; the angel had taken off to parts unknown.  Dean’s knees gave out on him and he sunk to the ground outside of his dingy motel room.  The heavens chose that moment to open up with a torrential rain storm.  Rain, in the desert, it seemed oddly appropriate for a time like this.  The rain added to the moisture already on his face, and Dean could pretend those weren’t tears.

As Dean kneeled there, the rain washed over him, and he prayed to Castiel.  Of course he did.  He always did, when his world was shattering.  All he could think of to say was, “I need you.”  The angel didn’t answer, of course.  Finally, Dean hauled himself up and walked to the liquor store on the corner.  The cold rain brought numbness to his skin, which seemed to match the numbness in his soul.  He bought as many bottles of cheap whiskey as he could possibly carry and went back to his empty room.

Once inside, he locked his room up tight, placing his Colt M1911A1 gently on the night stand.  His gun and his Baby, the 1967 Chevy Impala, were the only two beautiful things Dean would let himself have.  Because everything else of value and beauty that he ever allowed himself, he subsequently destroyed.  Castiel should have understood that.  Should not have been heartbroken by Dean.  Dean wasn’t worth it.  Cas should have known that by now.

Having secured his weapon, Dean stripped out of his wet clothes and climbed naked into the cheap motel room bed.  He hauled the bag of liquor into the bed with him, and with a passing thought of how he missed his memory foam back at the bunker, proceeded to attempt to drink himself into oblivion.

An unknown time and unknown amount of alcohol later, Dean started awake, unaware that he had passed out.  He hauled himself into a hot shower before pulling on a clean and dry pair of jeans.  He was just deciding which band tee shirt to put on before hitting the casino again when it came flooding back to him.  He dropped heavily onto the bed and reached for his Colt.  Everything weighed heavily on him and he couldn’t do it, not anymore.  He wrapped his full lips around the barrel, hands wrapped around the handle.  His finger inched towards the trigger.

“Dean, don’t.”  The deep velvet over gravel voice was full of command and control.  Dean’s finger froze over the trigger.  Castiel gently took the gun from him.

“It’s empty, Cas.  You can check.  You should know I’d never actually leave Sammy like that.”  Dean said, resigned.  His voice was flat, emotionless.

Castiel took his time inspecting the gun before speaking.  “Then why, Dean?”

With a heavy, pained sigh, Dean answered.  “Because…because sometimes the feeling of the cool metal against my tongue…just knowing I have a way out…sometimes it’s grounding, ok?”

Cas looked him over for several minutes, a dark eyebrow raised over one perfect shade of deep blue eye.  “There’s always something else you could have in your mouth.”

“Cas, don’t go there, ok?”

Castiel leaned against the rickety desk on the other side of the room and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Why not?  Isn’t sex your answer for everything, Dean?”

“Not this time, Cas.  Not for us.”

“Dean, why do you think Sam invited me on this trip?”  Cas asked carefully, his voice nothing but cool control.

“Because you deserve a vacation too.  And I fucked that up.  Like I fuck everything up.”

“No Dean.  You think Sam doesn’t know how you spend your vacation?  That he doesn’t know that we’ve been dancing around this…around _us_ for years?  Don’t you think that maybe he was hoping…”

“No, Cas, just stop.  Sam doesn’t know anything.  And neither do you, apparently.”

“Dean…”

“No!  This…us…whatever this is…we shouldn’t.  We can’t.  Why can’t you see that?  If we go there and it ends, as it inevitably will, because I’ll fuck it up beyond repair…Well, when it ends that will destroy me.  Don’t you see that, Cas?  I break everything that’s beautiful in my life.  I can’t…I can’t risk breaking you too, Cas.  Just go, ok?  Just leave and don’t come back.  It’s for the best.”

“Very well, Dean,” Cas conceded.  His tone gave away nothing.  It was still full of that cool control that Dean admired so much.

“If we need you, we’ll call,” Dean added almost inaudibly.

“I’ll always come when you call.”  With a flutter of wings, Cas was gone.

Dean texted Sam.  _It’s time to go home._

Yeah, Dean fucked up.  Fucked all the way up.

 


End file.
